


In which two awkward teen boys try to make a cake for their ex-crush and realize their rivalry is a little bit stupid

by Duckx37



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Baking, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Meteor fic, Reconciliation, im nothing if not thorough, like literally how hard is it, pre-retcon, they dont know how to make a damn cake, wriggling day suprise, yes i looked up crocker recipes for this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:41:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24819337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duckx37/pseuds/Duckx37
Summary: “Ugh. Fine, you want to help so fucking be it.” Maybe it wasn’t the worst idea. After both of you had stopped pursuing her in any quadrant it had been a struggle to drop the hostility between you two. She didn’t like seeing you two fight over her, little less fight in general… maybe a cake made together would be able to show the reconciliation of a possible friendship.Or so you thought at the time.Right now, as Dave stood in front of you with the most hideous apron you had ever seen in your entire regrettable existence, the idea of any form of ‘reconciliation’ happening was bleak.
Relationships: Dave Strider/Karkat Vantas
Comments: 3
Kudos: 56





	In which two awkward teen boys try to make a cake for their ex-crush and realize their rivalry is a little bit stupid

**Author's Note:**

> Warning!! R Word slur!! If it makes you uncomfy please don’t read! It’s very Brief and is simply Karkat being a dick

Karkat : Remind yourself one more time why this was worth it.   
  


  
You roll your eyes. You’ve been having these doubts all fucking day, and so of course when it’s standing right in front of you, said doubts will hit you at full force. If you weren’t mentally preparing yourself all day you’re sure it would have winded you at best. Maybe it would have made you go into a full on fit and cancel the entire thing at worst.   
  
Karkat: Stop being cryptic and tell us what's going on.   
  
What’s going on is that it’s Terezi's wriggling day tomorrow, and you wanted to make her a cake. Well, not at first, but when you had mentioned it to Rose she asked how you usually celebrated… which was extremely underwhelming compared to the parties they would host. You guess to humans, age isn’t basically a countdown to when you will be expelled from the only planet you have ever called home and forced to fight for your life in much more significant circumstances. So celebrating it would make much more sense, and with the hell of a sweep you just had, you thought celebrations for still being alive was more then in order.    
  
But of course, any plan you have never stays secret for long. That was a running theme with your surprise plans. No one could keep their mouth shut about them, and before you knew it, you had a specific, all-too-friendly-with-Terezi human, asking to join in on the festivities.   
  
“Like come on man, do you even know how to bake a cake?” Dave asked as he had cornered you one night on your way back to your respite block.   
  
“I have recipes!” You had retorted. “I don’t need your help Strider.”   
  
“Are you sure? It's a human tradition. Birthday cake is different from other cakes. You gotta make the special fondant and all that shit. Plus what about decoration? You gonna scrawl out some art with those dope drawing skills you may or may not fuckin have? Last I checked I was the only picasso on this meteor besides Terezi, and you obviously can’t ask her for help.” Dave crossed his arms, leaning on the wall next to you, effectively blocking your path.   
  
“Ugh. Fine, you want to help so fucking be it.” Maybe it wasn’t the worst idea. After both of you had stopped pursuing her in any quadrant it had been a struggle to drop the hostility between you two. She didn’t like seeing you two fight over her, little less fight in general… maybe a cake made together would be able to show the reconciliation of a possible friendship.   
  
Or so you thought at the time.   
  
Right now, as Dave stood in front of you with the most hideous apron you had ever seen in your entire regrettable existence, the idea of any form of ‘reconciliation’ happening was bleak. At this point you remind yourself why it was worth it. Just put up with Strider for the two hours it should take to bake a cake. For Terezi, for all the shit you put her through. She had to deal with your bullshit for fucking sweeps, you can handle a douchebag human for a literal 8760th of that. Yes, you did the math, it made it seem like less time.   
  
“What on Bilious Slicks’ good froggy planet are you wearing?” You almost couldn’t pull your eyes away from it.   
  
“Oh this little thing?” His reaction makes it clear that you shouldn’t have shown any interest. He was just waiting for you to ask. “Just my limited edition Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff apron. Hella Jeff version of course.”   
  
The apron was white, besides the horribly grainy black haired man that was strewn about as a sad excuse for a design all over it. You clearly can’t hold your disgust, and it prompts Dave to hold something out for you.   
  
“Any good baker wears a damn apron. C’mon man, baking 101. Wear a god damn apron and you’re basically the god tier level of baking. I got you one too, cause I’m just that thoughtful.” He smirks slightly. “They even match.”   
  
“You fucking didn’t, Strider.” You snatch the apron from him and unfold it. Yes. Yes he fucking did. The equally as hideous apron that you were supposed to wear was just like Dave’s, but instead you were blessed with Sweet Bro. His blonde hair much too reminiscent of Striders for your tastes. You send said Strider a glare.   
  
“No need to thank me.” He was so proud of himself.   
  
“Hardy har har. Fuck you.” You reluctantly pull it over your head, tying it behind your back. “Let’s just get this over with. Did you alchemize the ingredients?”   
  
“You fucking know it. Rose worked hard to figure out how the fuck to make flour so thank her.” He took out the needed materials and put them on the counter in front of you. You look it over, a lot of it looked alien to you, but as it will be when celebrating in such an alien way. You nod as you figure you have everything, and pull out the baking book you had found in a dream bubble a good while ago.   
  
“Alright. Well, we should start the cake, then we can make the frosting as it bakes and… what is that.” You look up from the book, eyeing the bottle of red he has set down in front of the other ingredients.   
  
“Food dye.” He shrugs. “Might as well make it the red she likes right?”    
  
“We are not putting blood in the fucking cake. What happened to you guys being the most pacifist species in existence.” You take it looking it over, it was in a squishable plastic bottle…   
  
“What the fuck? No it’s not blood what the shit.” Dave snatches it from you.   
  
“Hey! Give me that!” You try to grab it back but he pulls his hand away from you, successfully putting it out of your reach.   
  
“No way, I’m not letting you chuck this perfectly good bottle of pigment. I’ve had to guard it from Terezi enough. You know how hard it is to hide a bottle of literal red from someone who wants to snort it more than a crack addict?” He floats up, causing you to stumble forward.   
  
“What did you even use to make it?! On alternia dye and paint and shit is just fucking blood.” You glare up at him.   
  
“Thats the nastiest thing I’ve ever fucking heard.” He grimaced for all of half a second. “It’s just pigmentation. No bodily fluids besides metaphorical sweat and tears I used to keep this away from T.”    
  
“You’re disgusting.” You watch as he sets it back down and look over the recipe book once again. “Whatever, just. Okay. Measuring cups.”    
  
“Nah man we can just eyeball it.” He opened the flour pulling back as it puffed a cloud of white at him.    
  
“Uh- No we can fucking not. I’m not trusting your literally tinted view to eyeball jack shit.” You step next to him, grabbing the measuring cups from the drawer. Someone had used these at some point for something else. But you didn’t want to get into that memory because I said so.   
  
Karkat : Get into that memory anyways.   
  
No, goddamn it- fine ugh. You remember briefly the entire debacle held a little while back on how much cinnamon someone could inhale without fucking dying. You were surprised there were no just deaths that day. Also spoiler warning. No one can inhale as much as they think.   
  
You shake yourself out of the memory and pull a metal bowl from the cabinets, and set it on the counter.    
  
“Look at that. You don’t even start with the fucking flour, We need the… sugar and butter.”   
You reach for the sugar opening it and gasping as it easily rips the stupid paper bag. “Fuck!”   
  
You are doused in a good amount of sugar, thankfully your horrible apron stops it from getting into any crevices on your pants. But your shoes and socks are sweeter than a damn candy store at this point.    
  
“Fuck me. What the hell is with your packaging?!” You glare at Dave.   
  
“What the hell it's not my fault you went Kung Ho on its ass.” He snorted, looking away to stifle the laugh. You huff and grab the measuring cup.    
  
You carefully measure out one cup, but shoving the metal spoon like thing into the sand of sweet causes more of it to spill. You sigh and dump the contents of the cup into the bowl. You throw in the butter with haste, wincing as it sends some sugar flying out, before Dave can be an insufferable asshole, you say something.   
  
“Make yourself fucking useful. Get the eggs.”   
  
“How many?” He complies, dropping your butter flinging.   
  
“Uhh… ttwooo….” You drawl, then check the book. “Yeah two.”   
  
“Catch.”   
  
“What?” You look back to him, just in time to catch an egg that was thrown at you… well sorta. You grip it tightly, cause when someone throws something at you unexpectedly you don’t coddle the projectile! It breaks in your hands and sends broken yolk and shell and clear goo to the floor. “DAVE!! WHAT THE HELL!!!”   
  
He snorts and laughs, floating away as he snickers to himself.    
  
“Holy shit- You just fucking death gripped it. I thought you would drop it or something. Fuck that was so much better.” He puts a hand to his mouth and bites back his laughter. Leaving him floating and shaking lightly with silent giggles. Your face burns and you grab two eggs yourself, but… pause. Human eggs were MUCH fragiler then Alternian eggs. You don't know how hard to hit it to break the shell and not make a mess… Also your hand is left gooey from the first egg. You set them down, going over to the sink.   
  
“You wanted to help, dickwad. You crack the cluckbeast embryos! My hand’s fucking nasty now…” You go over to the sink and wash it off with a grimace. Glancing to Dave as he seems to have finally gotten his bearings back and settles in front of the bowl. Floating as to not get sugar or egg on his ‘kicks’. God you hate his slang. You are almost surprised to find him as clueless as you. He taps the first egg on the counter once… twice. Huffs a little and presses his thumbs into it and pulls it open. It plops into the mound of sugar, and he looks around for where to put the shells, settling on the counter next to the sink you were using. Then wipes off his thumbs, only to remember he had another egg to crack. He frowns slightly and takes it, repeating the process. You only realize you were staring as he wipes off his hands for a second time. Quickly you turn off the water and dry your hands on a towel.   
  
“We fuckin… whisk it now?” Dave was looking at the book you had open. You go over and look it over.    
  
“Apparently fucking so.” You hand the whisk to him. To which he… hesitates. “Uh… Do you know what you’re do-”   
  
“What? Of course I know what I’m doing. Whisking is the easiest shit ever. You whisk it once you whisk it all.” He took the bowl and started slowly.. Sorta just stirring it. “You just gotta break up the eggs all gentle like. Like you’re tickling a baby, but with a weird metal thing. Right on its soft ass baby belly, make that little fucker coo. That’s right little man you’re gonna grow up and do cool shit, but right now you’re fucking tiny, and I’m tickling you with a whisk. Cause that’s what good fucking parents do.Tickle their children with kitchen appliances. Of course, duh, what else are you going to do with them?”   
  
You can’t help but look at him, with what you’re sure is the most bat-eyed look you’ve ever given anyone in the history of ever. Dave Motherfucking Strider for once in the entire time you two knew each other... Had no idea what he was doing.    
  
“Dave that is the worst analogy you’ve ever fucking made.” You grab the vanilla extract. Moving next to him and putting in the vanilla as he stirs it up, the butter a bit tough but he’s too stubborn to ask for a spoon or spatula or whatever you actually use to stir things.    
  
“Nah. That shit was fire. I mean I’m technically a dad to my dad. I can just tell that was me channeling the awesome dadness from that version of me. Any self respecting father who wants the best for his kid would tickle them with whisks.” He moves so you can get to the bowl easier. Looking at the book… You tune him out as you get the flour open again, you huff out of your nose at the white dust it emits. Careful not to stir up another cloud of flour you take a cup of it, and dump it in the bowl. It coats the entire inside of the bowl in white… Dave pauses. Then snorts again as he keeps stirring it. You add in another half cup, and wait. He’s moving at fucking snails pace, for someone who’s a time player you thought he would understand wasting it.   
  
“You’re being too slow- Let me do it!” You reach for the whisk, but he doesn’t let go.    
  
“What? No way. You couldn’t even open a bag of sugar without ripping it. This is a delicate process man.” He tries to push you away with an elbow, but you hold on tight to the whisk. Making it jerk to the side. “Dude! Let go you’re gonna make more of a mess then there already is.”   
  
You don’t let this deter you! You aren’t gonna sit here and watch him nervously stir for a few hours. You still have to bake it and shit!   
  
“No! You’re slower then a fucking retarted slimebeast!” You growl. Grabbing the arm that’s holding the bowl and trying to pry his hand off of it. “Give it!”   
  
He doesn’t let go, instead he flaps his arm like an idiot, trying to ward you off with the possible elbow to the nose. You step back and glare and-   
  
“FUCK!-”    
  
Slip.   
  
Maybe leaving raw eggs on the ground isn’t a good idea. Your heel catches the mess and sends you careening backwards, your grip on Striders arm tightening as you fall. He gasps and its a blur of Red and shades and Dumb ass aprons as you close your eyes and hit the ground with a ‘doof’. You feel Dave’s bony shoulder in your stomach, growling as you open your eyes. Shocker! It didn’t feel great to have twink digging into your abdomen. You pause, because before you can start your tirade you see why he’s positioned so weirdly. The metal bowl is frozen, perfectly still its contents about to spill out over the edge as the bowl itself is at a 65 degree angle, threatening to ruin all your work.   
  
“...” You blink. Strider lets out a heavy breath and sits up, sending you a glare through his shades. “What?! You didn’t let go of the fucking bowl! This could have been avoided if you had just given it to me!”   
  
“Shut up. Literally what the hell man.”    
  
“I only slipped because you threw that egg!” You glare back, sitting up. “And if you didn’t have your damn hubris and gave me the fucking bowl, because you clearly dont know what you’re doing, MAYBE this wouldn’t have happened!”   
  
“Why would I ever need to bake a cake before? Literally where in my life would that have come up? You watched the entire fucking shit show, how many times did you see me sit down with my totally chill bro and bake a god damn confectionary together? None. Literally never fucking happened. Hell- I think the timelines in which it happens are a goddamn minority. A fucking endangered species if you would. Outliers on an already scattered graph. I’ve been a fucking girl in more of them then I’ve baked a damn cake.” Dave doesn’t snap at you. Not a shout from the cool kid, but damn does his tone change from annoyed to pissed off but trying to keep it cool in a split second.    
  
You pause,okay listen, you’re a dick but you can admit when you’re wrong. Sometimes… well you’re doing it now so this is a step in the right direction.   
  
“I… uh.” You swallow, physically and metaphorically as you taste your pride sludge down your throat. “I’m sorry.”   
  
“...Yeah. Me too.” He looked away. There was a beat of silence as you shift, you cross your legs and look down to your lap.   
  
“I… guess I just want this to work. Maybe a little more than I should.”   
  
“...The cake, or whatever the fuck is going on between us?”   
  
Your face burns again and you bow your head more to hide the cherry hue of your cheeks.   
  
“The cake! But- I fucking guess us too. I at the least want to fucking fix this. We are gonna make Terezi pupate early with all this stress if we keep this up.” You huff. “I get it. Im immature and a dick and selfish almost all the fucking time. So me thinking for someone that isn’t myself for fucking once is really weird! Whoo- go Vantas, taking a step out of your bubble of bullshit and self centric ego.”    
  
Dave simply watches you as you speak. Expression unreadable behind his glasses, and as you glance up it only causes you to ramble more.   
  
“So this cake was supposed to be me trying to show her that I’m fucking working on becoming a better person. I will stand by the idea that every past iteration of myself is a fucking idiot until proven otherwise. Oh god damn it that was a legislascerator pun- whatever. Past me fucked things up with her bad, and then fucked you over with her too. So I’ve been the cause of ruining two possible suitors for her and I’ve done jack shit to help besides whatever you could call the Gamzee debacle. Since then, I’ve barely even fucking apologized. Which not only makes me feel like an uncleaned load gaper but like the biggest fucking asshole you have ever fucking seen! Continuously shitting into myself and then crying over it and asking everyone to pity the mess I got myself into. This was SUPPOSED to show I’m trying to break that cycle. That I DID learn something from fucking over you and Terezi, and me and Terezi. That I regret it, but I’m not just letting it pass me by like some sort of chump.”   
  
“If it was that important why did you let me help?” Dave is blank faced as always. You think over your answer for a second.   
  
“Because- well this is an apology to you too. But also… trying to fix things with you. It’s not just Terezi I was a proverbial tenta-bulge to. You got the short end of a already short stick from a basket filled with a bunch of “Meteors shortest stick” contenders, and they even had to fucking remeasure the one you pulled to make sure you didn’t pull the new winner.”   
  
He lets out a soft breath, you feel the mood lighten lightly and only then realize how suffocating it was.   
  
“And on top of all that. Showing Terezi that we can get along even after what happened… at least for an hour or two. I think it would at the least mean something to her…” You shrug as you finally shut up. Dave sighs.   
  
“....Okay Karbro.” He smiles a little. “How about we make an absolutely bitchin’ cake then?” Dave floats, putting a hand out to you.    
  
“....Yeah.” You take it, he pulls you up with ease, you easily forget how fucking strong this dumb human is. He has suplexed you before… You are pulled out of your thoughts by a clatter and splat of ingredients.    
  
The bowl had fallen, now making the already messy floor somehow even more messy. Fucking lovely.   
  
Dave looks down to it. “Whoops. Forgot I was holding that up.”   
  
You sigh, then both of you get to cleaning.    
  
Baking a cake, as it turns out, Is a lot less irritating when both of you are toning it down on the ass fuckery. Also, toning it down on the ass fuckery, as it turns out, isn’t that bad. It takes you a little to actually believe Dave isn’t just putting up with you for the sake of getting it over with, but you can tell he’s more relaxed. A bit more expressive, small laughs, subtle smiles or smirks, quick friendly quips… For a little you actually forget how guilty Dave's general existence makes you feel.   
  
Dave always felt like something. Unattainable? Confident, smooth, despite as much as you don’t want to admit it, cool. Not to mention god tier, and easily waltzing his way into people's flushed quadrants. Once you set that aside though, and you actually spend time with Dave, and not the large shadow you had him chalked up to be.    
  
...You won't lie. You get why he’s so well liked. Not that you have any romantic feelings for him cause god damn would THAT be fucked up, no, fuck no, hell fucking no. Just… between the more relaxed atmosphere and the two of you trying to figure out what the actual fuck to do with cake, it’s… fun. In the purest of senses, sure, you push and shove and shout at each other but it ends with a bit of a chuckle from at least one of you, and a playfully dismissive action from the other.    
  
As you look to the frosting in the bowl you know there is only one thing left to do, the cake is cooled off and ready for you to decorate, but you’re hesitant to put in the drops of red dye…   
  
“What, don’t tell me you’re caught up on the blood thing again.” Dave nudges you, pulling you out of your trance from the tiny red bottle.   
  
“What? No! Mostly worried the moment we open this she’s gonna come rushing in here and our surprise is gonna be fucking ruined.” You try to cover it up. There is more to it then that. It’s what this symbolizes, red means a good bit to the both of you… and while you knew this was your plan along, to make a cake for Terezi and simultaneously maybe kinda repair even a sliver of your relationship with Strider, it’s almost scary to see it come to fruition so clearly.   
  
Dave leans over and flicks the cap off. “Then drop that motherfucker in. Listen we want this shit redder than two smitten grubs.”   
  
You snort, “Keep the metaphors to your respective culture dumbass.” and tip the bottle into the frosting.   
  
  
Karkat : Be at Terezi’s party.   
  
You have never tasted anything worse in your entire fucking life. By the looks of it, Dave is having the exact same experience. Terezi’s wriggling day Party was a success! But the cake you and Dave had made was more of a personal token, and you had opted to give it to her after the party, dragging Dave with you of course.

Terezi was ecstatic at the bright cherry hue the dye had left, and the cake was smothered in the worst icing job ever seen or smelled, but she really wasn’t complaining. No, Terezi was on her second slice of the 6 slice cake, and… didn’t eat the cake at all. Simply left it bare as she dutifully licked off the frosting. Don’t go and get yourself wrong, the icing tasted as icing should. Sugar with a hint of regret, but also the slight undertones of oral cavities and nausea. That wasn’t what was wrong, but to be fair, icing was hard to fuck up. The cake however, was horrible. You had no idea where you went wrong but you honestly felt like you had to apologize to the cake for being the one to bring it into existence, and maybe to Dave too for having this shitty sponge of a confectionary go on his cooking track record. 

You swallow your bite and glance to Dave. Who is sitting on a hearty pile of scale mates, unlike yourself who opted for the eye bleeding neon carpet that Terezi was also on, lapping at her cake with reckless abandon. You take a bite of the icing and decide to follow Terezi's example.

“So.” She finally pulls herself away from the assaulted cake slice. “What made you two work together?”

You look up, glancing at Dave again. “The fuck do you mean?”

She snorts and sets down her plate. “Karkat Vantas and Dave Strider put up with each other to bake a cake? Just for my Wrigglers day? You sure know how to make a girl feel special.”

You blush a bit and Roll your eyes, about to respond but Dave cuts you off.

“Oh what nah T you got it all wrong. Karbro and I have a secret passion for baking. We are the next fucking Alternian Bake Off Kings.” He slips off of the pile and puts an arm around your shoulders. “We are tighter then a fucking crock pots top. Stay up till fuck all late whipping up bad ass cupcakes like no bodies fucking buisness. Absolutely laying waste on teeth enamel. You think your chompers are safe? Think again. Once you get a bite of one of our sweets you’ll need dentures, cause only the best of bakers make their consumers beg for fucking merc-“

“We get it holy shit!” You push his face away with your hand as Terezi cackles with laughter, and you two pause as you feel a good amount of satisfaction wash over you. 

The rest of the night is spent talking and bullshitting around and taking hesitant bites at the cake just cause it’s there. Once you and Dave finally leave Terezi’s room you head down the hall to your respit blocks, you let a beat of silence pass before a smile plays on your lips and you speak up.

“That cake fucking sucked.”

“Oh absolutely.” Dave doesn’t hesitate to answer you and it makes you snort. 

“I don’t know what we did but I’m blaming it on you.” You smile.

“Fuck you too then, damn.” He half smiled back but didn’t look at you. “I think it was okay for our first try. I mean I’ve eaten worse shit.”

“I guess but. Still.” You shrug. Another beat of silence passes. Before Dave breaks it.

“I wouldn’t have thought to do the entire cake thing. I'll be honest. If I proposed the idea I’m pretty sure it would have come off as some cultural appropriation bullshit and shot down almost immediately.” He tilted his head as he thought. “Actually, maybe not. But it wouldn’t have gone over nearly as well, and my own idea of it getting shot down would have prevented me from actually doing it. Even though it probably would have been fine but I would just preemptively kick myself in the ass for thinking about it and all cause what is and isn’t like sacred to you guys. Shits confusing and all and-“

“Dave, what are you trying to say?” You cock an eyebrow. Looking to him as it shuts him up, you can almost see the gears turning in his head to try and condense his words.

“Thanks. For like. I don’t know, actually deciding to do it, and also letting me help.” He shrugged. “It was fun. For all intents and purposes. Even if that cake sucked monster puppet ass.”

You’re a bit taken aback. But you bite your tongue on a sassy quip. “Thanks… Thanks for helping….Go to bed, tired Dave rambles more than regular Dave and I can only listen to so much of your bullshit.” You shove him playfully towards his door as you near it.

“Wait-“ He turns to you fully. Then… hugs you. You almost panic and push him off. You manage to not do the pushing but the panic is very much still happening. At least until he talks. “I wanna fix this. Even if it means I have to bake more shitty cakes.”

You blink…. then hug him back because as if you’re going to ruin this with your touch deprived self. “Yeah yeah. I get it, you're desperate for my friendship.”

He pulls back with the most of a smile you think you’ve seen on him.

“Sure. Whatever floats your boat. Night, Karkat.” 

“Night.” 

He slips into his room, and you head to yours. The sugar high is crashing and you flop onto your couch. Sighing a bit you close your eyes…

… and think of what other cake flavors you want to try.

——————

This fiction is sponsored by Crocker Corp.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!!! It's really dumb I know and nothing TOO romantic but, it was a cute idea I had :) Hope you enjoyed!!


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